


Aftermath After Aftermath

by criminycakes



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Anorexia, Anorexic Castiel (Supernatural), Bisexual Dean Winchester, Canon Universe, Castiel in the Bunker, Eating Disorders, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, First Kiss, Human Castiel, Hunter Castiel, Hurt Castiel, Kissing, M/M, Short, Showering Castiel (Supernatural), Showering Dean Winchester, Showers, Sort Of, sam tells it like it is
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-18
Updated: 2017-11-18
Packaged: 2019-02-03 17:57:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,183
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12753294
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/criminycakes/pseuds/criminycakes
Summary: Castiel is human and in a constant state of dissociation.TRIGGER WARNING: disordered eating, brief mention of hospitals





	Aftermath After Aftermath

 

 

“Beer for dinner, Dean?” Sam purses his lips but his eyes are soft. Cas can tell he doesn't want to cook either. Cas collapses into a chair, beyond caring about the state of his clothes or the bruises he can feel now that the action is behind them. Sam and Dean walk heavily up the steps to the table and Dean pushes a beer over to Cas as he sits down. He claps Cas on the shoulder.

“Thank you.” Cas hears exhaustion in his own voice. He wishes he was invincible the way he used to be. He misses his wings.

“You earned it,” Dean says around the lip of his own bottle.

Cas remembers to look away from Dean's mouth eventually and is glad that Sam's eyes are closed. The beer tastes bitter and prickly. It makes him wince but the metallic after-taste feels like a gift on his tongue. It's always better when Dean hands it to him.

 

 

The diner is crowded, noisy, sticky. The sun punches its way through the window and delineates patches of heat on their table. Children shriek and gallop between the booths but Cas, Sam, and Dean don't speak. Cas is certain that the brothers are thinking of her too – he has seen Dean's dreams and he knows that Dean never forgets the ones they couldn't save. Sam is picking at an omelette with mushy chunks of unidentifiable vegetables in it and scrolling through his phone. Dean is meticulously spooning cream onto a slice of pie. He drips a small blob of cream onto each bite. Cas sips a coffee grey with milk and rests his hand in a splotch of sunshine. The warmth feels like another hand on top of his own. He feels guilty for enjoying it and moves his hand back into his empty lap. Dean's eyes look shinier than usual as he finishes his pie. Cas knocks his knee against Dean's accidentally-on-purpose. Dean moves away. The coffee curdles in Cas' stomach.

 

 

The Impala growls as they pull in to stop for gas. Sam takes out his earbuds and stretches, yawning. As quietly as possible, Dean reaches back with a huge grin and sticks his finger into Sam's open mouth. Cas stares. Sam's mouth closes around Dean's index finger and he yelps, sputtering. Dean laughs. It makes Cas smile. He'll never get used to the way his lips twitch up as if someone has rigged them to his emotions with wires.

“Dude! We're not 12 anymore!” Dean just laughs again and elbows Cas out the door. Cas closes it behind them as Sam leans out the window. “Just get me an apple and a sandwich.”

“Oui, monsieur,” Dean says with an exaggerated little bow and a terrible French accent. Cas follows him into the gas station. “And for madame?”

“I'm not hungry.” He's not full either. He figures he can wait until they get back to the bunker.

“Suit yourself.”

While Dean picks out sandwiches and jerky, Cas wanders down the short aisles marvelling at the huge variety of flavours and textures invented by humans to occupy their mouths and minds. It feels alien to him even though he is now, for all intents and purposes, human. It's not his heritage but he is expected to live in it. _It's all the same, really,_ he thinks. _Nutrient mush. Packaged sensation and emptiness._ Dean pays and they go back to the car.

On the drive back, Cas wants to lay his hand over Dean's, fingertip to fingertip. He looks out the window instead.

 

 

They have a rare day of quiet. No cases crop up, no calls come through, nothing happens. Sam and Dean stay in their rooms until almost noon, so Cas wanders through the different rooms of the bunker and tries to take stock. He finds a stained wooden trunk that he can't open, several untitled spell books with handwritten notes in the margins, a box of beautifully carved bullets, and more than a few spiderwebs. He's walking back to his room to figure out what the bullets are for when he walks into Dean, wet from the shower and wearing only a towel. He tries not to look too closely but that sheer expanse of skin seems to be drawing his eyes as if by magnetic force.

“Hey Cas. What's that?” Dean leans over to see into the box and water from his hair drips onto Cas' hands. "Nice. What are they for?”

“I was going to try and figure that out.”

“Attaboy. Let me know when you do. In the meantime... I've got a lunch date with some French toast. You want in?”

Cas feels warmer than he should given the temperature of the bunker. “Let me just...put these down.”

Sam's door opens and he sticks his head out. Dean smirks. “It's like a summoning spell. Mention food and POOF! a leech appears.”

 _Leech_ , Cas' mind repeats. _Human now, helpless now, leech._

 

 

Dean makes a mountain of French toast and they dig in, talking and joking. Cas can feel each bite landing heavily in his stomach and pressing against his insides. Dean and Sam load their plates and smother everything with syrup. Cas smiles when they try to talk though big bites. _Leech._ He eats a few bites. Sam refills the coffee pot and he and Dean slow down. Cas tells them about the bullets and spell books, the heavy trunk he can't open. Sam says he'll try to open it after breakfast. Dean calls him a show-off. _Weak_. Sam sips his coffee with a mock-pretentious look and Dean cracks up. He has a smudge of syrup at the corner of his mouth and Cas wants to lick it off. _Leech._ He feels empty when Dean isn't looking at him, but his stomach feels so full it almost hurts. The two feelings don't sit well together. He drinks a glass of water and pictures the bread expanding in his stomach like a sponge. He feels like he's choking even though he knows he isn't. _Weak._

 

 

Cas is woken up by the sound of the front door swinging shut. One of the boys must have gone out for something. He yawns and lifts his arms straight up, stares at them. He clenches his hands into fists and then relaxes them, watching his tendons appear and disappear. Long lines of flesh. Pale curving roads. He bends his elbows a little, then straightens them, rotates his arms clockwise, counter-clockwise. He is mesmerised by the different interlocking pieces, the curves and dips, the thought of bones beneath it all, connected but kept from touching by cartilage. He pictures all of his bones floating free from one another. This vivid visual is interrupted by his brain clicking into gear and reminding him of last night. The drinking, the laughing, the pile of chocolates wrapped in pink foil, the drunken game of charades that made the three of them laugh hard enough to cry. He had unwrapped the Valentine's Day chocolates for Sam and Dean, had smoothed out all the pieces of pink foil. Cas eventually gets out of bed and wanders to the main room. Sam follows not long after and pours them both coffee.

“Did Dean go on a beer run?” He knows what a beer run is, and it loosely translates to 'unexpected absence.'

Sam exhales through his nose. “God, I hope not. I never want to drink again.”

“Are you experiencing a hangover?”

“This hangover is experiencing ME.” Sam drops his head into his hands.

Dean walks in, groaning. “Coffee.”

Sam and Cas turn to look at him. Cas, puzzled, blurts out, “I thought I heard you leave a few minutes ago.”

Dean doesn't look at him, just flops down into a chair and sips his black coffee. “Nope.”

Sam looks between them and Cas cocks his head, a little alarm ringing in the back of his mind. He feels and fears the presence of something outside of his daily reality. “Who opened the door then?” Crowley? Something worse?

Dean shifts uncomfortably in his seat and Cas can see that his chest is flushed at the opening of his bathrobe. “I can't remember her name.”

Cas' heart inexplicably plummets. He is dizzy and sickly sad all at once. Sam leaves the room pointedly, with a face that looks purposefully blank. Dean looks up and catches Cas' eye. Surprise registers on his face. Cas feels the need to escape pressing in on him. It feels the way it used to feel when he could hear a cacophany of other angels' voices all clamouring in his head. “Ah.”

Dean hmms and goes back to staring at his coffee. Cas goes to his room. Hunger gnaws at him but he doesn't want to go back out and face Dean. Which doesn't make sense, because Dean almost always makes him feel better. Even when Dean rebukes him, is angry with him, punishes him with silence – Cas knows that he usually deserves it and the acid bite of Dean's anger somehow dissolves his guilt and regret. It's easier to focus on the sting of Dean's disapproval than it is to focus on his internal voice, or the world crashing down around him for the millionth time. But this time Dean isn't angry with him. Cas hasn't made any colossal mistakes, no biblical lapses in judgement. The hurt isn't bitter; it's bruising, sourceless, reasonless. He's confused. He focuses on his hunger and uses it to dislodge the image of a naked, gasping Dean on top of a naked, gasping woman from his mind.

 

 

Claws wrap around his shoulders and he can't throw them off. _Too slow, too slow._ He feels dizzy. The claws cut into his skin and he feels them draw blood. He lets out a noise of pain.

“Cas!”

The cry is drowned out by a hot wet growling right in his ear. He falls backward and the werewolf falls on top of him, hard, knees up to smash into Cas' stomach. His stomach cramps up as if to vomit but there's nothing there. Cas tries to gasp in pain or yell or even breathe, but his lungs won't inflate. Stuck. Frozen. He tries to inhale, panicking now, arms flailing uselessly at the werewolf's snarling face. The werewolf pulls its arm back to drive it into Cas' chest and a shot rings out.

Blood hits Cas' face and his lungs blow up as suddenly as they seized. His body convulses up in a desperate grapple for air as the werewolf falls forward, eyes lifeless. _What's that horrible sucking sound?_ He thinks dully as Sam and Dean run over. _I think it's me._ Their faces are blurred. Cas loses consciousness.

 

 

He wakes up in a hospital bed. He can tell from the smell and the squeaking of shoes. The pillowcase crinkles as he moves his head. His chest hurts when he breathes, as if he's inhaling fire. His left hand is uncomfortably warm. He tries to lift it to his face to see what's wrong with it but it won't move. In a fright, he tries again, harder, and his eyes fly open. He's lying in a blue hospital bed and has just ripped his hand out of a startled Dean's and hit himself in the face. A nurse is standing behind Dean with his lips pinched shut, red in the face, shoulders shaking with suppressed laughter.

“Cas! How are you feeling?” Dean's voice is raw with sleep and concern.

“Sore. But functional.” Cas sits up. It takes more effort than he's used to. The nurse walks around to the side of his bed and examines him.

“I told your brothers you would be just fine, but they didn't seem to believe me,” he tells Cas.

“You looked like you were having a seizure. Not to mention you got dinged up pretty bad.”

Cas frowns as he remembers. “I was having trouble breathing after that wer – ”

“Okay!” Dean interrupts, staring at him pointedly. “Point is, how are you feeling now?”

Right. Cas has always had trouble with the whole secrecy thing. He only has room for one reality at a time in his mind. It comes from being a creature with religious purpose and a hive-mind. It's why he's such a terrible liar. The nurse is looking between them a little suspiciously.

“Better, I think.”

Dean relaxes a little and looks to the nurse for reassurance. The nurse smiles and nods. “Yes, he'll be just fine. A couple days of bed rest and a week or so without exertion and you'll be right as rain, Mr. Winchester.” He leaves the room.

“Winchester?” Cas asks.

“They would only let immediate family stay. Sam was here, too, but he went to g – ”

“Cas!” Sam comes over and drops a number of styrofoam takeout boxes onto the bedside table. “Are you alright? What did they say?” He directs this last to Dean.

“He'll be fine.”

“How do you feel?”

“Sammy, just let the man eat some breakfast in peace. He's fine.”

Sam stares at Cas with that crease between his eyebrows and Cas smiles at him. “I actually am fine, Sam. No lasting damage.”

Dean puts a styrofoam box in front of Cas and hands one to Sam. “Dig in.”

Cas feels his shoulders tense up. The rice and meat inside smell like oil. His bruises ache. He doesn't need this food. Dean is already chewing, but Sam is looking at Cas with clear eyes. “I'm not really hungry,” Cas tells him. “My stomach is pretty upset.” Sam nods and takes the box away, but his eyes linger on Cas' face.

 

 

“Does Cas look different to you?” Cas hears his name and stops. He doesn't want to walk in if they want to discuss him. He should turn around and come back later. He should. But he doesn't.

“What do you mean? He looks like Cas.”

“Yeah, I know, but Dean...does he look a little sick?”

“Sick?” Dean pauses. “He was in the hospital. Anyone would look a little sick. Hospitals smell like pee. And they're full of...sickness.”

“No, I mean...he has dark circles under his eyes.”

“So he's tired.” Cas can't see him but he hears the shrug. “That's life.”

“And he looks thinner.”

“Look, Sammy, whatever you're trying to say, come out and say it.”

“Dean. Think about it. When was the last time you saw him _eat_?”

Cas is startled by this. Why is that important? His appetite has lessened, it's true. And he likes the feeling of being half-empty. It keeps him from staring at Dean. It keeps him present. It's hard to wish for his old life or a perfect self when his stomach is growling. The hunger is as mindless and weightless as meditation. He waits for Dean to reply but there's only a tense silence.

“And Dean.”

“Yeah?”

“Speaking of things you don't notice, are you _blind_?”

“Excuse you?” Dean's voice has gone from thoughtful to bristling.

“It's a simple question – are you blind? Did your eyes stop working?”

“Don't be a di – ”

“Because if you're not blind, what the fuck were you doing on Valentine's Day.” It's a statement, not a question. Cas begins to dread where this is going.

“What I always do. What's the big deal?” Dean's voice has increased in volume.

“Parading that shit around in front of him?”

“Wha – ? Who?”

Sam talks over him. “Look, you may not swing that way but Cas is your friend, you ass, and if you could think with your upstairs brain for half a minute, you might have avoided absolutely bulldozing the feelings of the best friend you've ever had. He's family, Dean – ”

“I know th – ” Defense. Confusion.

But Sam just keeps raising his voice, he's almost shouting now. “ – and after all the shit he's been through for us he deserves better than that from you.” Cas is flabbergasted by Sam's ideas on the subject, but also that Dean is allowing Sam to speak to him in that way, at that volume.

“From ME?!”

“Yeah. I said it. Don't bother yelling, I'm leaving.”

And then, before Cas can move, Sam stomps around the corner and nearly falls over him. Sam looks like a prey animal frozen in shock. His eyes are wider than Cas has ever seen them. “Cas. Cas, I – ”

Cas is overwhelmed. He turns around and leaves the bunker. He walks down the quiet roads for hours. When he returns, they all act as if nothing happened, aside from Sam watching what Cas eats with a sceptical eye.

 

 

The bathroom door opens. Cas doesn't object (he's never felt a possessive sense of prudishness or self-consciousness about this body even though it's technically his own now) but he is curious. He peers out through the steam and sees Dean. Dean stands completely still and stares at Cas staring at him. Some shampoo runs down Cas' forehead and gets in his eyes. Blinking rapidly, he turns back to the stream of water and rinses it out.

“This is unusual, isn't it?” It's not rhetorical. Some human customs still throw Cas for a loop.

Dean clears his throat. “Yes, it is. Can I...” He gestures to the shower. Cas nods, still confused. His confusion deepens as Dean removes his clothes and leaves them in a pile on the floor. Cas can't help but stare. He rebuilt that body. He isn't sure if that's what's making his heart beat uncomfortably loud and fast and hot in his chest. He can feel the heat spreading. Dean steps into the shower and they face each other. Cas is mildly embarrassed but mostly curious about the fact that his body is showing signs of arousal. He feels an alien impulse and is amazed when he realises that it's the urge to hide himself. He tries to find something else to look at, backs away from Dean until the tap digs into his lower back.

“Cas.” Dean's voice sounds just as shocked as Cas feels. Cas risks a glance at Dean, whose eyes are unsure. Dean reaches out and touches Cas' chest. Cas shivers and looks down. His ribs are slightly visible through his skin, moving like bodies under blankets when he breathes. Dean's fingertips are points of electricity where they touch him. Dean steps forward until his body is inches from Cas'. Heat radiates between them, even under the steaming water. Cas' erection is painful now and he can't look away from Dean's face. Dean's eyes are even more beautiful from this new vantage point, and even as they move uncertainly around Cas' face Cas is getting drunk on watching Dean's eyelashes. His head feels as light as air. He reaches up and touches Dean's face, brushes lightly over the stubble there. He has to close his eyes. He feels too much, he wants too much, and then Dean's body is pressing against his own from pelvis to collarbones. Chest to chest. It's so sudden that it takes Cas a moment to realise that Dean is kissing him, that he's kissing back with hunger.

 

 

 

 


End file.
